


only fools and horses and Colin

by pixiepuff (colourmecrunchy)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, minor crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmecrunchy/pseuds/pixiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one in which Colin folds a lot of (Bradley's) socks and tries to figure it all out</p>
<p>but Bradley's way ahead of him as per usual</p>
<p>
  <em>He knows he's got more energy than your average 5 year old and could last longer than a power-saving lightbulb, but people make it sound like he's going to duplicate or something after some coffee. Or thrive on it with some weird-ass photosynthesis and produce an army of part leprechauns part Powerpuff girls.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	only fools and horses and Colin

**Author's Note:**

> (okay i know anything but Mature or Explicit is _not_ the preferred rating for a fic but I felt like the whole vibe of the story really doesn't need an explicit sex scene in the end)

So Colin thinks Bradley might be a bit of a spaz. Honestly. He's never quite sure what he's on about - Bradley keeps complaining about _his_ accent, but Colin is in fact pretty certain that even with his - adorable, mind you, he hears it _all_ the time so it must be true - Irish accent _and_ pissed out of his mind, he still makes a lot more sense than Bradley does. While sober. (With a perfect - gorgeous, sexy, hot, is what Colin's _heard_ people say - _British_ accent.)

So he's never 100% sure he knows where to stand with the bloke. And this isn't something Colin Morgan is used to being confused about, because - okay, let's tell you something about Colin Morgan. (In case you didn't know yet.) He's the kindest, nicest soul in the whole of the universe. And beyond, too, probably. (Again, he's heard.) Sometimes he tries to be firm or formidable or what ever it's even called, Colin's not quite sure - he doesn't really know the proper vocabulary for _those_ kind of people. You know, the kind of people that don't let anyone push them around and the kind of people who give you one look and you know it means _no_ , and the kind of people who are so sure of themselves they ooze this kind of - aristocratic, almost - nonchalance that makes you stare at them in awe. But only in _secret_. You're not supposed to stare at them openly, no, everyone knows it's ill-advised to feed that sort of an ego.

So basically, Colin is made up of all that's nice - there was even an occurrence when somebody used the _Powerpuff girls_ description for him, that he's " _sugar, spice, and everything nice♫_ " blended together. Colin's not so sure that sugar plus spice plus everything nice results in a tall, skinny, milky white product - all in all he sounds more like a coffee blend anyway. And, oh, lord - _coffee_. Even a _cup_ of coffee is too much caffeine. People usually do this mistake only once and then make a mental note and _remember_ and refuse to give him any for the rest of their lives.

Someone once suggested - actually, it was the same one who said he's a part Powerpuff girl - that Colin is maybe a part leprechaun too and that sugar is his _cryptonite_. He doesn't know how this goes together because a) he looks _nothing_ like a leprechaun (he's _not_ small and ginger and hairy, mostly) and b) isn't cryptonite from Superman?

But apparently it's a well-know fact that Thou shalt not feed one Colin Morgan sugar. Or else.

He knows he's got more energy than your average 5 year old and could last longer than a power-saving light bulb, but people make it sound like he's going to duplicate or something after some coffee. Or thrive on it with some weird-ass photosynthesis and produce an army of part leprechauns part Powerpuff girls. But whatever, he's not one to kill other people's fun, even if it is on his account.

So where were we? Ah, _yes_. Colin is pretty much the nicest man you'll ever going to meet. And he gets along with _other_ nice people, naturally. And he gets along with pretty much everyone else too because even the less-nice people like him. 

  
And then there's _those_ people.

 

The _Bradley_ people.

 

And unless they come at him full-frontal, waving either a white flag for friendship or a red one for arena fighting, he finds himself at a loss. People are not supposed to be such an enigma and Colin is at least happy that him and Bradley are not supposed to be playing lovers, because oh _lord_ would that prove to be brilliantly awkward.

(Still, sometimes he's not quite sure Bradley _got_ the not-lovers memo, the way he - or _Arthur_ or whatever - stares at him (or Merlin or _whatever_ ) in front of the cameras. It's slightly unnerving and predatory and Colin thinks that all that lips-ogling is highly indecent and un-called for, especially if Bradley is going to go off and start talking boobs with Tony the next minute.

So, yeah. Bradley is confusing, and he's got a PhD in that. He also seems to have a degree in Ridiculous and this is what Colin can't forgive. He _can_ get past the non-chalancy or the _stud of the_ _decade_ look, or his princely demeanor even when he's out of character, because all of this, you see, makes it easy for Colin to just brush the guy off as a co-worker, as a friend-by-necessity, as by someone who is just _there_ , even if he is there _all_ the time (with a stupid, annoying little flip camera that seems to be attached to his left hand) like a stray puppy. Which, _no_ , Colin totally doesn't think is kind of endearing. No. Because half the time when Colin speaks, Bradley gives him a look as if he just insulted his mother in some language, and if you actually _know_ Colin you know it's an oxymoron - he can't insult people to save his life. Or, at least up until _now_. Sometimes, Bradley tests his nerves and Colin finds himself doing inexcusable things, like wanting to verbally bitch-slap the guy into oblivion, or shove that camera down his throat, or his own _tongue_ , even - you know, just to shut him up. He swears. That's the _only_ reason. But he doesn't do it because he supposes that not even that would result in a quiet Bradley so taking one for the team would be pointless. Fruitless. Hardly worth the hassle.

 

Anyway.

 

It would be easy not to think of Bradley as someone worthy of his extra time, if he didn't prove to be so painfully earnest in his outrageous stupidity. And that right there is a whole lot of adjectives that _shouldn't_ go together, but for some reason they do and it's the only way to actually describe the man. Colin is at a loss for words. He often gets told he's too good. Too put together. Too _normal_ , even, sometimes.

And the thing is, Colin _likes_ to be normal, thank you very much. It doesn't draw unwanted attention and it doesn't make you look like, well. It doesn't make you look like _Bradley_.

But it's as if after putting them together, someone started this stupid avalanche and Colin can see Bradley hurling towards him along with the heaps of deadly snow and everything stupid that gets picked up along the way and he just _goes_ with it. It's like this big silly ice Yeti woke up something in him and Colin finds himself sharing ideas he didn't previously known to be possible to form in his mind. His biggest phobia is to become one of _those_ people, and starting to do stupid stuff with Bradley feels like the first step towards madness. Like Alice and falling down the rabbit hole. Only that Bradley's insanity could rival that of the Mad Hatter any day because Colin's _seen_ Mad Hatter. And remained calm. (And he sure as hell didn't want to shove his tongue down _his_ throat just to shut him up. So no, Alice in Wonderland is a child's play in comparison to what his life had become.)

 

One time, Bradley invited him over. Because, of course, Bradley had a pretty fab flat in London. Figures. _All those_ people did.

And Colin arrived, bringing beer like any good self-assured and proud Irishman would and to his surprise, Bradley seemed really happy at that. Naturally, the evening goes down from there. Colin doesn't like to be appointed a goalkeeper at the beginning of a long hall when Bradley wants to kick balls at him, and _yes_ , Colin knows how this sounds and swallows a bark of laughter at the thought and sprays some beer on the floor as a result.

Bradley finds the thing so hilarious he misses the ball for a whole foot and then looks at Colin expectantly as if he waits for him to block the strike. When nothing happens and they just blink at each other, Colin pointedly averts his gaze towards the ball still on the floor next to Bradley and Bradley surprisingly follows his line of sight.

The look of genuine confusion on his face is kind of endearing and Colin mentally facepalms when Bradley just shrugs and kicks the thing again. This time, he doesn't miss his target, and neither does the ball - Colin is unprepared and standing way too straight and naturally, of course, what _else_ , the ball hits him square in _his_ balls. He has half a second of shock left before the pain kicks in to see Bradley cheering - at what, exactly, he's not sure because Bradley didn't score so he might be cheering at actually not missing the ball this time, but then - _ouch_. Bloody fuck that hurts. He crumples to the ground and curses, loudly, and thinks bitterly _where's your sweet Powerpuff Colin now_. Bradley's too pissed to be quite as worried as he should be so he spends the better part of the next few minutes laughing at Colin. He, too, manages to spray the floor with beer and just shrugs, that loaded twat, Colin thinks, because of _course_ he doesn't care, he'll probably just hire someone to clean this mess when he's out and filming, and then shuffles towards Colin on all fours.

"Shit," he breathes. "Are you all right?"

Colin gives him a _look_ , and it's then that he flips out a little bit. First all the stupid stuff he gets himself into with Bradley, and now _this_? Giving people looks? He tries to get up and then promptly sits back down, his hand still clutching his - what's left of it, anyway - manly parts.

"Ow," is all he cares to say.

Bradley swipes a hand over his face and then shakes his head. "Sorry, totally unintentional."

"Yeah well if you wanted scrambled eggs why didn't you just say? I could make you some."

Bradley, bringing his beer with him, of course - no point in wasting totally good beer if your friend is on the floor, clutching his balls - is just taking another sip so Colin's come-back ends up in him spitting _more_ beer. In _all_ directions. He's laughing hard, again, and Colin lifts his shirt up to dab at the beer-spit on his face.

"Thanks."

"Oh man. You're _brilliant_."

 

And _that's_ the problem, you see. Colin sees it as a personal victory if he manages to befriend one of _those_ people. If they get along that's fine, encouraged even, and he stays Colin and they stay, well, _that_ , and everyone lives happily ever after. But if one of _those_ people actually thinks that Colin is great, well, what does that tell you about him? They're nothing alike, at least at first, so what's up with that? Are they ill? And is it contagious? And more importantly, how the hell does it _spread_? Because as much as his brain still thinks that the best way to silence Bradley would be by kissing, he hasn't actually _done_ it, so how the hell did he get infected? He refuses to become like that, even if that means he has to wear one of those over-face cloth thingies around the set and whenever he's with Bradley. Which should become less often too, now that he comes to think of it.

When he doesn't respond, Bradley starts to look at all the mess on the floor. (And the walls. But mainly the floor.) The floor's got little beer-pond patches all over the place and when Colin absentmindedly reaches towards one ( _why_ , exactly, he does that he's not sure, but he supposes he's also a bit too drunk to do normal stuff anyway), Bradley stops him, looking worried as hell.

"Don't touch it!"

Colin looks at him only half-surprised, used to nonsense coming out of his mouth by now. His balls at least stopped screaming at him, so he might as well humor Bradley for a while.

" _Why_?"

"It'd burn you!"

"Beer would burn me."

"It's no _ordinary_ beer."

"How much did you have, exactly?"

"Shhhh, it could _hear_ you."

 

Colin feels like he should be more exasperated, he really should, because nothing makes sense in his head anymore, but then again - he's drinking with _Bradley_ , maybe things weren't _supposed_ to be logical. So he goes along. Again. (No one can accuse Colin of being a party pooper. _No one._ )

He whispers back, dead serious. "Okay so what do we do?"

 

Bradley huddles close and Colin ignores how absolutely _horribly_ cute that is, he does, and he doesn't flinch at Bradley stage-whispering aka yelling into his ear (which at least, thank god, kills all the cutesy stuff going on), "I think we should retreat ass a ass pee."

" _Sasp_?"

"What?"

"What's _sasp_?"

"I don't understand your Irish gibberish."

"I don't think this is Irish."

" _I_ don't know what _sasp_ means."

"But you just said it?"

Bradley looks confused, almost like a puppy when he's peed where he wasn't supposed to and got told off for it, and suddenly clings to Colin's shirt, eyes wide.

"Colin."

"What?"

"Is it dangerous?"

"What is?"

"This sasp of yours."

"Oh for the love of-"

Colin shakes his head and snorts and takes a gulp of Bradley's beer. (He agrees with him on this, perfectly good beer really _shouldn't_ go to waste.)

"Bradley, you said we should move s. a. s. p."

"Yes."

" _Well_?"

"That's because we _should_."

Colin is thankfully blessed then with some kind of weird-ass wisdom, only the kind you get when you're utterly _pissed_ and you get a moment of such clarity you think you could write books about it and start religions - " _Oh_."

"What?"

"Bradley, you moron."

"Hey!"

"Did you mean we need to move _a ass a pee_?"

"Yes, ass a ass pee, that's what I said."

"No that's asap. Not sasp."

"You're confusing me."

Colin wants to facepalm really bad then and considers himself _not_ doing it proof how far his friendship with this idiot has actually come.

"Bradley."

"What?"

"The beer is coming to get you."

 

Colin says it as calmly as he can and nearly doubles over with laughter then, when Bradley scampers up on the floor, his feet everywhere and hurls himself up on the nearest chair. When he wipes at his eyes and looks at him again, Bradley looks troubled, reaching his hand towards him. He even wriggles his fingers for emphasis.

"Come here," he urges.

"Why?"

"We can't let it get you, too!"

The sincerity in his eyes does something stupid to Colin's insides - yes, _insides_ , he's going to leave it vague like that because he can't say _brain_ , can he, his brain is blissed-out on the madness that is beer and Bradley, and he can't, or won't, say his heart because _what the fuck_ leave his heart out of this it didn't do anything bad to anyone so can we just _not_ , and he can't say it does something stupid to his kidneys because that would be just something the dadaists would dig and he's _so_ not pissed enough to think about _that_ , so he's just going to say Bradley does something stupid to his internal organs in _general_ , and you have to go with it. There.

So he gets up and lets himself be pulled up on a table, and if anybody asked the next day what they were up to, Colin _wouldn't_ tell them that for the rest of the night, or at least until Bradley passed out cold, they pretended the floor was lava or _lava-beer_ and that they weren't allowed to touch it. So they had a little polygon on chairs and counters and _each other_. Because Bradley's logic works in mysterious ways (like God, for instance) and he figured if Colin gets on the floor and then _he_ climbs over Colin to get to the sofa, that's basically him not touching the floor, so it counts. And who was Colin to argue with such logic, if it meant he was man-handled across half the apartment by Bradley?  
Again, he wouldn't say they were doing _that_. That's just stupid. And he's Colin Morgan, he doesn't do stupid stuff like that.

 

**********

 

So days and weeks and _months_ , actually, pass by in the same kind of ridiculous _filming-Merlin-while-Bradley-is-filming-me_ haze for Colin and he becomes more certain of a few new things:

One, and this is important because it's like a crossing of his priorities/interests - he's kind of fed up with the cameras. He's usually pretty good at ignoring them but as of late, he just can't _stand_ them. He blames Bradley for this, naturally.

Two, he's way too familiar with the insides of Bradley's flat and that was not something he planned or intended to do. Hanging out with Those people, yes. Practically live with them, no. There's a reason for this rule, Colin's sure, he always has good reasons and if he's not figured this one out yet then it's only a matter of time, but honestly, nothing good could come from this.

He's reminded of it every time he ends up sitting on the sofa, folding Bradley's socks while watching some unimportant football game (and fine, yes, all football matches are unimportant to Colin, but at least he knows enough about the sport to know which ones really don't matter _at all_ ) and Bradley lounges next to him, commenting on ball size (har har, _yes_ , Colin knows how this sounds again) and thrust impact (err-) and one time he even tried to explain to Colin what _off-side_ is, but if you think ball size and thrust impact is bad, then try listening to who is in front of whom and who is _behind_ whom and where the ball gets _tossed_ and just. No. He'd actually much rather just fold all the socks, thank you. Socks that aren't even _his_. See, Colin knows there's something wrong with this picture.

Also three, and this one is really starting to get on Colin's tits - if he _had_ them, but doesn't, and he knows _this_ thanks to Bradley who won't ever shut up about his list of _great boobages_ and Colin is _never_ on this list, huh - is that he's finally figured out how to shut him up. Okay no, this isn't what's problematic, obviously the shutting up is encouraged, but Colin still doesn't understand how even _after_ he's realized that _all_ Bradley needs is some football on the telly and he'll turn into a silent baby turtle (at least until his team is losing, then he'll start going off like alarm clock at 5 in the morning), he'd _still_ much prefer to try out his original idea. You know, the one with the _tongue_.

Colin _swears_ this idea didn't intensify after Bradley came over to his place one time and returned the favour of folding socks. (They still watched football, but after the initial shock of Bradley picking up his laundry basket and folding up neatly all its contents was over, so was the match, and to this day Colin has no idea who even played. Or if it was football at all.)

 

**********

 

Colin is a bit cranky. Which, no, you're right, doesn't happen often. He doesn't do cranky, it goes against his very nature and while he's not _proud_ of it, there's actually nothing that can be done. They had to get up at 5 am for filming and the whole staff is passing around some giant chocolate that looks and smells like the gift from the gods right now, and everyone is breaking off big chunks, _everyone_. Apart from Colin. Because he's not allowed any. And the problem is that _this_ time, it's the kind of chocolate that even he, poor unfortunate lactose intolerant soul could have some, but isn't allowed any. He's asked, several times, and they said there will be no filming with him if he has any sugar and that he's supposed to be riding a horse in half an hour and that the _horse_ won't be able to _keep up_ or something ridiculous like that, so Colin pouts and stalks away and almost steals a carrot from the said horse just so he could have something to nibble on too. (But in the end he doesn't, of course, because it's not really horse's fault and Colin knows he'd feel so bloody guilty afterwards that he'd cry for forgiveness at it. And that's just- no. Not even Bradley would do stupid stuff like that.)

Speaking of Bradley, he shows up a couple of minutes before the start, and just from the contented look on his face, Colin knows he got the chocolate. So he just huffs his hello and turns back to the horse, when he suddenly senses Bradley standing right behind him. And that's no good because why is _everything_ today being such a tease? Why are all the things he wants being dangled in front of him and- whoa. _Okay_. This is not how Colin wanted to phrase that, but there it is. He's cranky and people are pissing him off. Whether they stand too close to him or not while doing it is not important. Really.

" _What_?"

He turns and there's Bradley, looking more like Arthur, anyway, and appears a bit out of breath. Huh. Bradley is fit as fuck, what's up with the breathing?

He takes Colin's hand then with his gloved one and drops something in it.

"Thought you'd like some."

He shrugs and sniffs like it's nothing and then points at some random camera bloke like he's got some business with him, and Colin's pretty sure he doesn't, because neither of them even know his name (and Colin knows _everyone's_ names because he thinks it _right_ and if you don't know everybody's names on set it's the first sign of aloofness and being one of Those people, you know) but there he goes anyway and Colin looks down to see what he- _oh_. That's.

Well.

Colin stuffs the huge chunk of chocolate in his mouth before anyone else can see and before he can say or do anything he might later regret (and he doesn't even let himself think _what_ could even classify as something he'd _regret_ doing) and sighs in content. Delicious.

He gets on his horse a few minutes later because it seems like a brilliant idea and the place for him to _be_ , and by the time the cameras are rolling, Colin's horse is going in all sorts of directions under his command apart from the one in which it should, along to Colin's half-singing half-giggling something about a prancing pony and carrot sticks (and it all has a pretty catchy tune, others have to give him that), the director yells for a cut. And turns to the staff at general. "All right. Who fed him sugar?"

No one steps forward but Bradley is grinning uncontrollably on his horse and suggests they do the scene without the horses first.

Later, when they all huddle together under a tent and munch on their lunch packets and Bradley winks at him, Colin pretends he didn't flush in response. At all. Not a _chance_. The tingling he felt on his neck was just an ant, or some stray linen from his neckerchief or whatever the hell it was, it had _nothing_ to do with Bradley.

Because Colin wasn't sure why he gave him the chocolate. His initial thought was that Bradley was being nice and sneaked some for him, but that kind of gave him his weird _tongue_ ideas again so he decided that _wasn't_ it, and now he was wondering. Bradley probably just wanted a bit of fun because he was actually the only person who still gave him either stuff like that or caffeine, despite seeing Colin transform into a high-on-sugar squirrel and being warned by others that he might regret it. Surprisingly, Bradley doesn't. (Seem to regret it, that is.) Bradley even makes him coffee when they watch football, but Colin still isn't sure if that's because he looks sleepy and unfocused during the matches or because Bradley wants him to fold the socks faster.

 

**********

 

One evening Tony invites them out for drinks. Some bonding time, he elaborates. Because apparently he's getting sort of _I'm-afraid-of-you_ vibes from Colin and that simply won't do. Even if Colin lies through his teeth and tries to convince him otherwise. He sees way too much _Uther_ in the guy and Uther is just tragically, stupidly mean and misguided and Colin knows Tony isn't like that, he does, but his presence alone is still enough for him to leg it across the set and hang out with the girls.

The first hour passes by pretty innocently, or at least that was perhaps Tony's intention all along, to sort of lull Colin into a false sense of friendship and security (Bradley, on the other hand, has no issues of this sorts, he accepts the free drinks for what they are and really goes to town with them).

Because then Tony goes and asks the inevitable. Good _lord_.

"So Colin, do you have any objections to Bradley's _boobage_ list?"

And, here's the thing. Colin _could_ talk boobs. Like, with no problem. Because he _knows_ boobs, he's seen them and has met quite a few fine specimen in his time, so yes, boobs are fun and all but Colin Morgan also cannot _lie_ \- only when he's acting, but when he's acting he's a whole new person so he's not even Colin then and it doesn't really count, right - so he panics. Just a little bit.

Because yes, keeping a list like that is a bit sexist and offensive and he's always got along well with the ladies, they trust him and call him _harmless_ and sometimes Colin thinks _I'll show you harmless_ and does a photo-shoot that leaves all of them _panting_ over the magazine spread, so yes, in a way he _does_ mind that such a thing as this list exists. He'd like to ask Bradley how _he'_ d feel if he was on a list of some girl about Delicious man chests (no, he doesn't know why he came up with that name, it's just an example, nothing more), but then he remembers Bradley is one of _those_ people which automatically means _massive ego_ and it would probably just result in him feeling really bloody entitled and proud and that solves absolutely nothing.

Much like Colin's idea of shutting him up. That one's a dead end in itself as well so he refuses to go there. Still. For a bad idea, it sure _is_ persistent, Colin has to give it that.

 

And then no, he also _doesn't_ mind because Bradley can do what he wants, right, even if it sort of makes him look like an idiot but at least Colin's admitted to himself that the idiotic bit of Bradley might be his _favourite_ , no matter how terribly dysfunctional this may sound, so he can't mind, can he?

But then again.

_Yes_ , he minds. And he's at least drunk enough to not kid himself about the real reason he minds. Which is that he's not _on_ it. There. He said it. To himself, at least, but that's like coming half-way for Colin. And don't they say that a problem shared is a problem, er, half-solved or something? Only that Colin realizes then that sharing your problem with _yourself_ solves absolutely _nothing_ , so he suddenly feels double the weight on his shoulders.

Tony and Bradley are looking expectantly at him - or, Tony, at least, because Bradley is all adorably smashed already - so Colin shrugs something non-committal and says, "Everyone has lists."

"Do _you_ have a list?"

Colin looks at Tony a bit wearily. Why exactly did the guy offer to buy them drinks tonight? Colin's sure Bradley didn't question it at all, to him it probably felt natural that people want to buy him drinks, but Colin is a little bit suspicious. He knows Tony isn't Uther, okay, not really, and he's not gonna behead him if he does something wrong - which, why would he, he's Colin, and oh right, he doesn't really have _magic_ \- but Tony as a presence is a bit formidable because of his expansive film career and because he's- oh. Well fuck. Because he's _one of them_ , too. Colin is sitting in an enclosed booth with two of Those people and when did he abandon all reasonable thoughts and actions and started making decisions which make his life worse? He feels a bit out of his depth here and suddenly all he wants to do is go to his tiny shabby flat and put some music on and do a bit of colouring. Or laundry. But he won't touch socks, no sir, because socks instantly remind him of Bradley and that's just. No. Not tonight.

"I have plenty lists," is what he says back.

" _Like_?"

Bradley shuffles closer, looking intrigued now. Or as well as he _can_ with a stupid drunk grin on his face that says he's probably going through his own list in his head - with _pictures_.

Colin pouts.

"Groceries list, difficult lines to say list, people I need to call list, birthday dates list -"

 

Tony answers by sticking his tongue in one of his cheeks, _totally_ giving him a look. Colin really didn't think tonight's company through, did he?

Bradley shrugs, then.

"We should totally make our best games list, Cols."

"I don't think any of mine overlap with any of yours, _Bradley_."

"Of course they do."

"You _sure_?"

"Don't tell me you didn't like to play The floor is lava?"

 

Tony sets down his beer at that, totally doing his _shocked-Uther_ face. And thank god his mouth was empty, because then Colin replies with "We were really drunk. Also you started using _me_ as furniture," and Tony gets such a coughing fit Colin has to pat his back for a while.

Bradley just grins. Of _course_ he does. It's like one of his guidelines to life, _When in doubt, just smile like you've won the lottery_ , and the worst thing is it works too. When Colin attempts the same kind of a smile he looks like a Chinese guy with gas pain and that kinda defeats the purpose right there. Because he's not Chinese. Or has gas pain. Normally, anyway.

Tony shakes his head after he's calmed down and turns to Bradley, who wears an alarming look of _excited and wishes to overshare_ on his face, and Colin just silently wonders what else could be said to make things worse.

He doesn't have to wait for long.

"He also loves it when I fold his socks," Bradley quips solemnly, and while Tony is busy picking his jaw up from the floor, Bradley turns to Colin happily. "Right?"

Colin glares back because what can he say? He can't say he doesn't like it if someone else folds his socks but dear _god_ , it's not like Tony didn't think something is fishy before, but _now_ -

Colin clears his throat because he has nothing to hide, you see, he just wishes Bradley would shut his mouth and. Yes, _yes_ , he's having those thoughts again. Well done, you.

 

"Colin you look like you're thinking of something _naughty_."

_Yes, Tony, that is a very good observation_. He opts for "Shut up," and hopes his face isn't as red as it feels. Tony looks delighted.

"What _else_?"

Bradley scrunches his face up like a child, and it's almost adorable if Colin wasn't experiencing a bit of a mindset shift next to him. He's not sure if all of Bradley's habits are rubbing off on him now (and dear god what's with the dirty innuendos in every bloody line he uses for him?), but he can't stop staring at Bradley's _lips_ and it's highly disturbing. Distressing. Upsetting. And it's doing that thing to him where his sodding insides are tingling again.

 

"He likes this _Medium roast blend_ by Starbucks, so I have it at home at all times."

"Why do _you_ have it? Why didn't you just get him some?"

Bradley leans close, and Colin already knows what's going to happen - he's going to stage whisper conspiratorially, which means _half the pub_ is going to hear it and he feels his bloody ears heat up -

"So he comes over to my place a lot."

Colin stares at the ceiling and counts how long he manages to look at something else before he starts ogling Bradley's lips again, and counts to 8 this time. Which is _not_ an improvement, mind you, he used to be able to just accidentally glance at them from time to time and if he keeps this up, shooting Merlin might become pointless because the description could just turn into " _share this exciting world of magic and kings and dragons with Merlin and Arthur - two men who like to stare at each other's lips and do fuck-all otherwise_ " (It's so the deaf don't feel left out, not because they seem to have a weird fetish for each other's mouth, no.)

He excuses himself and goes to the toilet where he has a rather unsatisfying and unfruitful session of looking sternly at himself in the mirror and giving himself _the_ look, and then his eyes drop to his _own_ lips and before he knows it, he's comparing them to-

Oh bloody hell.

 

He walks out of the loos then and yes, you've guessed it, everything, even his weak, tiny resolve - about what, exactly, he doesn't know, but he's made one, he's pretty sure of that - crumbles when he sees how across the pub, Bradley notices his return and beams at him in a way that _should_ be illegal and waves, actually _waves_ and stumbles out of the booth towards him, spectacularly smashed which means he trips and shoots across the floor like some impressionist-improvising dancer. And while he doesn't seem to care what his legs are for, he knows _exactly_ where to look and where he's _still_ looking at - even when he's collecting himself up from the floor - is _Colin_ , and poor Colin is just standing there helplessly under the onslaught of Bradley's gaze and he actually _hears_ that silly mysterious resolve crumple and okay, okay. Maybe it's not his insides anymore that are tingling around this idiot. Maybe it really _is_ his heart.

Bradley manages to stumble to him then and holds himself up by clutching both of Colin's shoulders.

"Tony said you should take me home."

"Because you are completely smashed, yes."

" _And_ put me to bed."

"Erm."

Bradley sways then and Colin's arms automatically shoot around his sides and cling to him to prevent him from doing any more dance moves. With the corner of his eye he spots a grinning Tony and hates him just a little bit. (Not a _lot_ , of course, because he's _Colin Morgan_ , but a little bit, just enough to spread his emotion of annoyance to someone else who isn't _himself_.)

"Or, or, _wait_. No. I think I mixed it up."

"What?"

"Yes I did. _Oops_."

Bradley giggles then and leans in to whisper into Colin's ear, but not before he miscalculates the distance and bumps his nose and mouth into it. Idiot.

"Tony told _me_ to bring _you_ home."

"He did."

"Mhm."

"How very-"

"And to put _you_ to bed."

 

Colin swallows hard and starts dragging Bradley out. The whole of the ride to Bradley's place, while Bradley is tucked into his side and hums something that disturbingly sounds like Powerpuff girls theme, Colin curses his life and ill timing and how this is just his luck and of _course_ if Bradley would suggest _them_ and a _bed_ he would be too pissed to remember it the next day or to actually _mean_ it while he'd said it and just. Whatever, dear life. _Whatever_.

He means to drop Bradley off and then go back to his place immediately because for some reason he doesn't trust himself tonight, he's done way too many unColin-like things already and god knows what's in store if he keeps it up, but then Bradley does his confused _I-shouldn't-pee-here?_ puppy look and his limbs are more like an octopus than actual human body parts with bones and Colin just sighs and heaves him up the stairs to his apartment. Bradley possesses enough wits to make it to his bedroom by himself, but when he reaches it he turns expectantly.

"You coming?"

Well shit.

Colin follows, of course he follows, because what _is_ a backbone anyway, it must be like a tailbone and he was just born without it or something, and then laughs at Bradley who tries to undress and fails spectacularly. It seems he managed to wipe half the pub's floor when he tripped and Colin cringes a little at the smell and wetness of the T-shirt and then helps Bradley out of it.

And then admits that yes, okay maybe he _does_ know where his imaginary list of _Delicious man chests_ came from because _this right here_ is a total winner by far, and he's seen it many times because Arthur seems to have an affinity for walking around topless, but with so many revelations flying in tonight, Colin admits that _yes_ , maybe he'd make an exception and really have a list like that, but it's pointless anyway because Bradley would be the only one on it and oh lord he's pulling his jeans off now _too_.

Colin pushes him to the bed then and tries not to look and tucks him in so well he's pretty sure Bradley can't actually _move_ under the covers. For a moment he looks like he's goning to protest, but then he says, with genuine disappointment, actually - "We didn't get to play lava floor."

Colin strokes his hair then and surprises himself by saying _we'll do it next time_ , and then Bradley just grins happily and falls asleep in the next second.

When Colin is walking home - it takes him nearly two hours but he needs the fresh air, and he needs to keep moving, and he needs to calm himself _down_ because would you look at that, it turns out there were _other_ things tingling beside his heart, especially when Bradley took his jeans off and showed him his glorious ass in those lovely black briefs.

 

**********

 

The next time they all see each other on set, two things happen. (Okay probably more than just two but these two are the most important and lately Colin is sorting out his priorities anew.)

Tony appears at his side all smug and asks how he slept the other night. Colin thinks he knows what Tony is playing at (and it's of course _exactly_ what Tony is playing at), so he tells him he did, thanks, after he made sure Bradley is home safe and then went back to his own place. Tony, predictably, doesn't look as happy as he did before this exchange, and Colin thinks 1-0 for him. (And shit, two more things to mention here - it's actually more like 5-1 in Tony's favour, but Colin's not competitive so he's not _really_ counting, you know, and the second thing is kinda alarming because dear god, if he started using football scores for his personal dealings and encounters with other people, then he really _is_ spending all his time with Bradley because there is no other way he could pick this up.)

And then the second important thing happens, which leaves Colin flustered and bothered and it's stupid, really, but he's still hot and bothered hours later so he might as well share the experience-

Eoin decided to be nosy and asks the other guys about their current affairs. (Quite _literal_ emphasis on the _affairs_ , mind you.)

"So, Colin."

"Yes?"

"Girlfriends?"

"Nah."

Eoin shrugs, and adds for a good measure - "Boyfriends?"

Colin shakes his head. He doesn't do boyfriends. Or, rather, boyfriends don't do him. They don't _do_ him. Har har. (And a few drunken hook-ups with indecipherable other drunken creatures of the night in random toilets don't really count. Because that's _so_ not a Colin Morgan thing to do. What _is_ a Colin Morgan thing to do, though, is pine away after someone until all his bones hurt and then he convinces himself they're out of his league anyway. Much like someone sitting _across_ from him, who spends way too much of his time making lists about boobs.)

And speaking of the devil, Bradley then, when some brunette bombshell walks past and all of the guys kind of forget to close their mouths, just drawls out "Boobs are kinda overrated, don't you think," and Colin chokes so hard on his drink that he's all raspy for the next half an hour. Because yes, that was _it_. That was the shocker number two. He doesn't have to explain why, right?

 

**********

 

Again, life goes on as it did before, mainly because Colin is really busy playing the perfect Merlin and being the perfect person all round, and pretending to be someone who is way too professional to maybe possibly fall for his co-worker, all this while said co-worker seems to be growing impatient and more distressed with every passing day.

Colin wants to ask. What's eating him up, that is. He does, because he's a doting friend and he cares for the people he _lov_ \- oh, _cares about_ , you know, but sometimes Colin Morgan is a coward, admittedly, and in this particular instance, he's not sure he wants to know the answer. Because, and it's stupid, he knows, but you _do_ pick up the habits and behavioral patterns (and start finding their socks among _yours_ and how the fuck does that even happen if you don't live together, except that he supposes they kind of do, because he can't remember when was the last time he didn't fall asleep on Bradley's couch, or woke up to Bradley being sprawled all over the bed _and_ him, even if he did go to sleep on Colin's sofa and somehow sneaked into Colin's bed in the middle of the night like some puppy who isn't allowed but does it anyway and then Colin just sighs and pulls the covers over him higher) of the person you spend a lot of time with, and Bradley's silly ideas are now Colin's silly ideas. And Bradley's stupidity is Colin's stupidity (and Bradley's socks are now his too, apparently). But all this weird "not being sure of himself" surely didn't come from Bradley because Bradley is a massive ego on two legs (on two gorgeous legs, and probably not just _ego_ , it's more 70% percent ego and 30% smirk beside the legs), so Colin wonders. Maybe it's the unknown territory that's making him fidgety but his uncertainty is making Bradley all wound up as well. It's no wonder Colin snaps when the tent they were filming under, collapses. The cameras and the crew were outside, zooming in, and god knows why the bloody thing didn't hold up, but now it's down, the heavy water-resistant cloth pressing down on both of them.

" _Shit_. Are you okay?"

Bradley is pawing along the ground and Colin _really_ needs to stop giving him puppy references, but he just can't stop for some reason, and then Bradley shuffles his way to him and sort of bumps his head on Colin's.

"Ow."

"Ahh, sorry."

"S'alright. At least it wasn't my balls this time."

 

Bradley looks at him, and okay, it's nearly full dark because- _collapsed tent_ and all that, and they can hear some general commotion going on outside and people shouting to them to stay still, that they'll try to lift it as soon as possible, but Colin can see Bradley quite well because the idiot is doing his massive grinning again, the grinning he seems to reserve only for Colin because Colin's never seen him do that for the cameras in the interviews, and he finds himself blinded for two reasons - Bradley's had his teeth whitened again recently, and also, _shit,_ Bradley is really close and laughing and looking happy and something stirs hot and wriggly in Colin's belly.

"Shut up," he murmurs.

Bradley smirks at him then, and doesn't move away. Colin doesn't ask because he knows if he did, Bradley would come up with something stupid like "conserving the heat this way" and sighs heavily.

Bradley studies him. "You _know_ -"

"What?"

"I've been working on a new list."

"Really."

"Oh yes."

"And what's _this_ one called?"

"People with bestest ears."

"Bradley you know bestest isn't a-"

"Yes?"

_Oh_. Colin's pretty sure his ears, in all their sticking-out glory, went red and is glad for the almost-dark.

"You're making an _ears_ list."

"Yes."

" _Why_?"

"Ask me who's _on_ it."

"Why."

"Go on."

"Is it an extensive list?"

Bradley smirks, or maybe just smirks more intensely because he never really stopped smirking in the first place, Colin isn't really sure, but. Idiot.

"Not at all."

"Right."

"I'd rather say it's a pretty _singular_ list, if you catch my drift."

Colin really wishes he'd stop torturing him like that. He's not into dom-sub play and this is not exciting at all, no matter what that thing in his stomach says.

"Who's on it, then?"

 

" _You_."

 

"Oh _shut up_."

 

And he means it, he really does, he's been wanting for Bradley to shut up for ages and the git never listens to him, and he's got no telly in here to play some football for him and to organize his thoughts, and when Bradley opens his mouth to say god knows what, probably some more infuriatingly flirtatious things, Colin snaps and pulls him close and shuts him up in the only way he's ever _really_ wanted.

His tongue is pretty excited about it and Colin feels as if he might burst at the seams any moment now, but he's conscious enough to realize one great flaw - how it doesn't actually shut Bradley up. More, it seems to go in the completely different direction because Bradley is moaning with delight and grabbing him back and oh, lord, _kissing_ him back and it's distracting, almost too distracting to realize that his plan, or idea, at least was a failure waiting to happen, but for some reason Colin kind of doesn't mind anymore. So _what_ if kissing Bradley doesn't silence him. _Fuck_ that, honestly. (And if he's lucky, he just might get to do that _later_.) Bradley is clutching at him and smacking kisses hard and loud against his mouth, and it's all rather inelegant and messy, but so _intense_ that Colin just whimpers and goes along with it, as if he wasn't the one who started it all.

When he moves away - only just - to get some much needed air, he realizes Bradley is pretty much in his lap, and hello, when did that happen? He opens his mouth a bit more to ask about this new development, but Bradley seems to understand it as " _uno mas_?" and lungs forward happily, so enthusiastically they nearly topple over and Colin needs to cling to him to keep them upright. (He doesn't stop them kissing, though. That would be pointless and idiotic and wasting a perfectly good lip-lock. And Colin Morgan is no idiot.) Bradley occupies his senses - those that are still working, anyway - to such an extent that they completely fail to notice the tent being lifted a tiny amount in one of the corners. And two of the bulkier staff crawling in. Backwards, luckily, and Colin notices them just when he's resurfaced for air again. He pokes Bradley, hard, but he stays where he is, of _course_ he does, probably more because he wants to embarrass Colin and less because he really likes it there (though he is gawking at the other two blokes as if they just walked in on something important, which, okay, maybe he has a _point_ ), and one of the staff turns to them with a torch light then and asks, "You two all right?"

 

Colin just nods, not trusting his voice right now, and braces for the inevitable, which, comes the very next second - "Why is he _in your lap_?"

 

He wants to say something smart, something logical and smart that would make both of them go "oooh, you're right" and when he realizes he has nothing, he nearly brings up his previous idea of conserving body heat, when Bradley exclaims happily - "Floor is lava."

 

Colin snorts in disbelief. And then facepalms.

 

**********

 

The collapsed-tent story makes the news, of course, but thankfully it is a bit tweaked. Bradley-in-his-lap seems to be the best kept secret, which naturally means that everyone on set knows about it, and Tony and Eoin in particular don't shut up about it at all, but the media gets nothing.

Colin is glad of this. There are way too many new and exciting things going on in his life right now to deal with nosy and indigestible press as well, because suddenly making sure he is the perfect Merlin and the perfect co-worker and all round perfect person gets to be kind of exhausting. It's not easy to juggle all this along with one very energetic, loud, time-and-energy-consuming, gorgeous, stupidly irrational, unbelievably adorable and devastatingly insatiable Bradley James. But Colin tries. (And does a pretty damn good job of it.)

Because it's so worth it. Even despite Bradley being one of _those_ people. And actually - and Colin realizes this and is impressed that he doesn't flip out at it - he tries _because_ of Bradley being one of them, not despite it.

 

And one evening, when Bradley is sprawled all over him on the couch and hums Powerfpuff girls theme and watches football while Colin folds their socks, he wonders if all that much has really changed at all.

 


End file.
